


The Pencil Is Mightier Than The Sword

by CynSyn



Series: Shorts and One Shots [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Banter, Curiosity, Desk Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Idiots in Love, M/M, Please Don't Copy to Other Sites, Secrets, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynSyn/pseuds/CynSyn
Summary: Aziraphale has a secret, and Crowley will do anything to discover it.Anything.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Shorts and One Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082246
Comments: 34
Kudos: 291
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	The Pencil Is Mightier Than The Sword

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot for the first ever Celestial Biscuit Club Smut-Off.  
> The prompt was, "A secret is discovered."
> 
> Please, enjoy my ridiculousness.

Crowley noticed, from the corner of his eye, that Aziraphale had slipped something into his special secret desk drawer, locking it after. A wicked grin crept across his face as his curiosity was piqued.

“Angel,” Crowley called out. “What have you got there?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale replied, flipping the book over to read the spine. “It’s—”

“No, no no,” Crowley said, quickly cutting off the distraction. “None of your angelic subterfuge. We both know I’m not talking about your book.”

“Yes, well, knowing it and being happy with it are two separate things, my dear,” Aziraphale replied, opening his book back up.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Crowley said with a smirk. “You’re going to have to be _convinced_ to tell me."

“Why, whatever do you mean?” Aziraphale asked, his voice drenched in boredom as he lazily turned a page without looking up at all.

Crowley looked around on Aziraphale’s desk, rummaging around the items on the top.

“Is there something you needed help finding?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yes,” Crowley quickly answered.

“Other than that,” Aziraphale countered.

“Then, no.” Crowley thought for a moment. “You know, I could just miracle it open,” he said fiendishly.

“But you _won’t_ ,” Aziraphale pointed out, casually turning the page of his book.

“No, I won’t,” Crowley groaned with a sigh. He started moving things around on the desk once again, looking up in hopes of getting a reaction out of Aziraphale.

Crowley had an idea.

“You know, you’ve got quite the nice collection of items here on this desk,” Crowley mused aloud. “Be a shame if something… _Happened_ to them.”

Carefully, cautiously, and calculatedly, Crowley’s index and middle fingers pushed Aziraphale’s pencil cup along its way on the path to freedom and anarchy. The bottom of the cup had just breached the edge of the desk when Aziraphale, against his better judgement, glanced up slightly.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Crowley shrugged his shoulders with a pout, never looking away from Aziraphale. The two locked eyes in a silent battle of wills as Crowley slowly pushed a fingertip against the cup, knocking it into the floor.

“ _Oops_ ,” Crowley said as the cup bounced and rolled to a stop at his feet. “How clumsy of me.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes as he watched Crowley continue to knock things off of his desk, one by one.

“Are you quite done with your little display?” Aziraphale asked as the last scrap of paper landed in the floor.

Crowley shrugged his shoulders with a pout. “Depends on what’s left to do.”

“Pick it up,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes.

“Right,” Crowley grinned wickedly. “Of course.” A slightly forked tongue ran along the lower edge of his top teeth suggestively. “Anything you like.”

Crowley turned around, exaggeratingly bending over in such a way as to display his backside properly to Aziraphale. Ever so casually, he peeked behind him to see Aziraphale’s reaction, swaying his hips while he collected the spilled pencils and placed them back into the overturned cup.

“You’re supposed to bend with your knees, not your back,” the angelic bastard said without looking back up from his book.

“Ugh,” Crowley groaned, setting the pencil cup back on the desk with a loud clatter. “What is it going to take to get you to fuck me?”

Aziraphale’s eyebrow quirked upward, eyes still on the same sentence of the same paragraph on the same page he had been attempting to read during this entire display. “I thought you were trying to get me to tell you what was inside of the drawer.”

“I, uh, it can be two things,” Crowley stammered, realizing he had gotten a bit lost in his own plot.

“Hmm…” Aziraphale hummed, thumbing the page he had not actually read over to the next as casually as possible. “You _do_ know, don’t you, that you can’t trade sex for a secret with me.”

“Oh, for _Somewhere’s_ sake,” Crowley huffed, pulling the book away and climbing into Aziraphale’s lap.

Aziraphale smiled sweetly, wrapping his arms around the narrow collection of awkward angles nestled in his lap. “Hello, my dear.”

Crowley sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, releasing it with a pop as he grinned back at Aziraphale. “Hello, yourself.” He settled himself into Aziraphale’s lap a bit more comfortably, straddling him with knees on either side of the angel’s sturdy thighs. Taking Aziraphale’s face between his hands, he angled it upward, bringing his mouth down to gently graze against Aziraphale’s lips. Upon feeling the warmth of the tip of an angelic tongue, Crowley parted his lips, inviting his angel inside.

“You know what I want,” Crowley whispered against Aziraphale’s lips. “And I know you want it, too. I can feel it,” he said, grinding their hips together where he sat to feel the growing hardness beneath him.

“I do, yes,” Aziraphale replied, drawing in a deep breath at the sensation.

“ _Take_ _it_ , then,” Crowley said, leaning his head back as Aziraphale began to trek an open-mouthed journey down his jaw and neck. “It’s already _yours_.”

“Mine?” Aziraphale spoke against Crowley’s skin as his fingers began unbuttoning Crowley’s shirt.

Crowley gasped as his shirt fell open and nimble fingers slipped down to the fly of his trousers. “Just as it’s a-always been.”

“How long, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, already knowing full well what the answer was. He simply loved to hear Crowley _say_ it. He punctuated his request with a firm squeeze as his fingers slid down past the undone zipper and over the soft fabric of the pants beneath Crowley’s trousers.

“Since the wall,” Crowley whispered, trembling hands working as nervously as they had the first time to unveil the angel beneath the layers of tartan and cream.

There was something to be said about doing things slowly, languidly, more _human_. This was, after all, a human experience, the way these corporations worked. Once fully divested of their clothing, Aziraphale thoroughly enjoyed the methodical act of preparing his demon, the slow and gentle stretch of hard muscle into a pliant welcome as he stroked tenderly and lovingly in and out, literally wrapping Crowley around his finger. Judging by the way Crowley moaned and writhed around Aziraphale’s sinful hand, the demon rather appreciated it, too.

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready, won’t you my dear?” Aziraphale asked, his voice low and husky with desire.

“I,” Crowley began, his hips flexing along with the motion of Aziraphale’s wrist “I’m getting there. Could you add another finger,” Crowley gasped as Aziraphale flexed the two already in place, “Please?”

Aziraphale happily obliged, curving his fingers as they reentered Crowley’s slick heat. He took his other hand, wrapping it around Crowley’s hardened cock.

Crowley let out a soft whine of frustrated pleasure, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders as the angel worked him thoroughly front to back.

“I could keep doing this, if you like,” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s ear. “Unless you wanted more.”

“More,” Crowley panted. “Need you inside me. Now.”

Aziraphale growled a low, rumbling sound of agreement, removing his fingers and releasing Crowley’s hardness. He placed a strong hand below each of Crowley’s thighs and lifted the two of them up from the chair to gently lower the demon onto the desktop Crowley had so helpfully cleared off earlier. Aziraphale stood up, looking down at Crowley, who, still lying down on the desk, had wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s waist. “Whatever shall I do with you?” He laughed softly.

“Fuck me?” Crowley grinned, lifting his hips.

“Gladly,” Aziraphale said, slicking his hand to stroke along his own erection, eager to guide it home.

He lined up the head with Crowley’s prepared entrance, pressing in slowly. When Crowley began to writhe at the sensation, Aziraphale pressed his palms firmly down on Crowley’s hips and lower abdomen, holding him still while he slowly pushed deeper inside.

“Is this all right?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley nodded, unable to speak momentarily.

It was one of Aziraphale’s favorite parts, this moment when Crowley was so utterly overcome by sensation, before he had become accustomed to the soft push and slow drag of the cock buried within him. Aziraphale held still, as he always did, to await Crowley’s indication that it was time.

After a few moments and several heartbeats that weren’t’ strictly required, but added to the experience regardless, Crowley’s eyes fluttered open. Aziraphale lifted his brow questioningly, receiving a silent nod from Crowley. They had done this many times before, and after knowing one another as long as they had, as _intimately_ as they had, perhaps more so than any other two entities in all of creation, they understood one another’s shorthand communication perfectly well.

Aziraphale began to thrust, gently at first, marveling at the way Crowley reacted to the rhythmic slide in and out.

Aziraphale could make an entire meal out of the sounds coming from Crowley’s long, lean throat. It was in these moments that he felt like he understood what Crowley got out of watching him eat cake.

Perhaps they would go for a nibble later, he thought.

Crowley reached up towards him, hazy eyed, with a smile on his face, wordlessly indicating his need to be closer, to be held. Aziraphale gladly obliged, grasping Crowley by the hands to lift him up into an embrace as he continued to thrust. The shifting sensations sent a tremor through Crowley’s entire body within Aziraphale’s arms as his prostate was exposed to a new pressure from this angle.

“A-angel!” Crowley gasped out, his hips trying to chase each movement of Aziraphale’s own.

Aziraphale held him tightly to his chest as they rocked together, increasing in speed and force. Crowley wrapped around Aziraphale like a serpent around a tree, they chased relief and release between themselves in the bliss of their own paradise.

They held one another as the aftershocks passed over them, clinging together to feel the twin heartbeats of a soul joined in devotion between their chests. After a moment, Aziraphale gently lifted Crowley up into his arms once more and carried him over to the couch. He stepped away momentarily, bringing back a warm, damp flannel to clean them both up.

“So,” Crowley smiled, eyes still closed in his afterglow. “About that drawer…”

Aziraphale leaned in close, whispering in Crowley’s ear. “Can you keep a secret?”

Crowley nodded.

“Well, so can I,” Aziraphale said, leaning back with a grin.

“Angel,” Crowley whined.

“When I told you that you couldn’t trade sex for a secret, I wasn’t kidding.”

“Fine,” Crowley groaned. “Keep your secrets. I’m going to sleep.” He rolled over to face the back of the couch, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders.

Once Aziraphale heard the gentle, rhythmic breathing that indicated Crowley was asleep, he stood up from his chair to quietly open the locked drawer in his desk. He reached in, removing a pencil, and placed it inside of the cup filled with others identical to it. There was nothing particularly special about this pencil, but there didn’t strictly _need_ to be. Aziraphale was just enough of a bastard that he only put it in the drawer to activate Crowley’s curiosity.

Aziraphale watched the gentle rise and fall of Crowley’s chest as he slept. He never imagined his little prank would have led to _this_. Aziraphale leaned over to press a soft kiss against his sleeping demon’s temple. He went back over to sit down and continue reading his book, laughing softly and wondering what he might hide in the drawer next.


End file.
